‘ … War! Why! Why, in God’s name, why!’ From behind a bellow of hoarse voices …. ‘Jews! J ….!’ Newman leaped in terror …. the man on his left had shot up with his right fist in the air, and he roared out a great,’ Ohhhh!’ and panting for breath, sat down. His grunts were rhythmical now, in time with the priest’s compelling stanzas, and he kept rocking forward in the rhythm and rocking back, pulling on his knee over which his pants were drawn up in a knot of wet creases. Mr Newman drew his elbows in and his knees together and tried to blot out the people from his mind, and then he felt the wave starting again.

‘ … long, oh God, how long!

It rolled like a living beast over his head; it was something that could almost be touched, it had weight as it displaced the stinking air overhead and rushed the length of the hall up to the podium. People were-on their feet, roaring and applauding. He tried to remember what the priest had said. The old lady with the high shoes had dropped her papers on the floor and stood prayerfully facing the priest, her yellow hands clasped to her chest. Where was Fred? Something fell to the floor behind him, something heavy. Someone faint, he wondered? Where was Fred, he pleaded, where was someone he knew? ‘

…byword from now on. Action! Action! Action!’

The floor was shaking with the stamping of the people. The priest’s face was wine red as he called over their heads, his arms stretched out stiff, his fists clenched. The crease-faced man on the left was standing, his arm pumping up and down in the air, calling ‘Ohhh!’ They were on their feet all around him now and the odor of their bodies choked him, and he started to get up when something heavy fell upon his shoulder and he turned in horror and saw the crease-faced man, wild and pouring sweat, staring into his face. And he realized the man was holding onto his collar. ‘Say!’ he complained, and struck the man’s forearm modestly and feared that his suit would tear. The man just kept working his jaws with his lips extended, and shook Mr Newman and grunted at him. Mr Newman grabbed onto the man’s arm with both hands and tried to loosen his grip, but he feared for his coat. So he turned his head around for help in time to notice people looking at him, while on the stage the priest stood on tiptoe trying to see into the circle which had formed around him. Catching sight of the priest, Mr Newman started to call to him but a new face moved up very close to his face. This new man was one of those who had been standing to one side of the stage.

‘Get his hand off me,’ Mr Newman said to him.

The man from the stage looked at the crease-faced man and said, ‘What’s the matter?’